In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  * * * * *

  Gerin stopped only for a short time. Since leaving Kaldus, he had not rested, only slowed once to wrap more leaves around his waist. When they were secure against his body, he tucked his shirt back in and continued, trying his best to ignore the strange sense of urgency that threatened to overtake him. Deep down it was not a subconscious desire to prove his loyalty to his King and retrieve the weapon he sought. Rather, it was a strange competitive eagerness driving him, instead of duty.

  Gerin knew the war was still months, maybe even years. He was not bound to the time constraints of training schedules and there were no guards watching over him to relay what progress he made to Idimus.

  Gerin was free.

  He could spend a month or more on this quest and Idimus would not be the wiser. The General may need that time to find his center, to re-establish his loyalty and come to terms with the King’s deceptive, manipulative angles. His only option seemed to be to look past them; yet as hard as he tried, he could not.

  There had been betrayals before—several in his one hundred fifty years, some far worse than this. Gerin always shoved them off, looked at them as a reason for the kingdom’s growth.

  This one was different. This one seemed personal. The more he thought, the longer he focused on it, the more disquiet he found. The betrayal had stained his very soul. For everything the King had accomplished and each person he had corrupted, it was never Gerin. It was always someone else—soldiers, Drogan, Rhimaldez, or Estophicles. It was a new feeling to the General: being used. Perhaps that was why Estophicles had deserted his duty. Maybe he had grown weary of it, as Gerin seemed to be doing now. He doubted he would ever see him again to ask him though. But one thing was for sure: since leaving Kaldus, Gerin had discovered he harbored an unnatural hatred for the King. One that may have been there all along.

  Gerin slowed even more. Hensah was far off in the distance. He was hoping it would help him capture or expel the countless thoughts misting through his mind. He even entertained the idea of stopping for the night, for the week, or longer until Idimus either sought him out or Gerin broke entirely.

  Temptation eased him towards the village. As though he no longer had control of either himself or his horse it veered, finding himself away from the road leading north and on to the other, heading towards Hensah. Gerin’s mood with every step became more and more lethargic; all until a jarring scream coming from the village snapped him back to reality.

  “Curious…” he thought to himself, thinking it a patrol or Drogan extracting some control with his newfound position. The General continued on, though now of his own accord to investigate.

  For a time he charged, but once several yards away from the village, he stopped and dismounted completely. He snuck to the village on foot, hearing one scream, then another, and they seemed to be coming from different people. He still could not make the sounds out clearly, but the closer he drew the more he believed it to be Drogan. A snarling and growling was the only thing he could discern amidst the screams. Creeping along the far wall of the closest house, he peered around the corner the moment he was able. Minutes passed with his gaze locked between the narrow gap—and nothing emerged. Then—fading as quickly as it came—Gerin caught a glimpse of a large, lumpy, green figure stomping by.

  “Taghs…” the General thought to himself and his instinct, as a soldier, was to ride back and inform his King. But he wanted to investigate further. Maybe this one had fought its way out, or perhaps it could have been Idimus who released them, hoping that eventually they would work their way to Grahamas. Though they would leave nothing but destruction in their wake—and it was an extreme measure—Gerin no longer believed anything was beneath the King. Such an idea was feasible except that he didn’t have a key to either door. He could have asked Estechian, after Gerin left Kaldus, to release them. Roane was directly west now, Kaldus much further south. In essence, the Tagh could have easily beat him here if Idimus sent word right after he left. But Estechian was loyal, and he knew the dangers that these monsters created. They would destroy everything around them, Kaldus as well. He would not release them without Gerin’s approval, despite the King’s orders. That only left one other person: Estophicles. “But why…” the General wondered.

  A crack of wood splitting and a large crash echoed through the air, and Gerin knew he would have time to worry about it later. He crept, holding himself tight to the building as he went along its far side, following the Tagh as it moved left. Its back was turned to the General, he could peer fully around the edge without risk of getting caught and he could see the entire village square. First, his gaze fell on the brutish, snarling Trolltagh smashing into one hut’s wall and then its other. On the other side was what Gerin believed to be every single villager huddling in a tight circle—a good many screaming—but no one was running or fighting back.

  And Gerin knew why.

  Had it been him, the first thing he would have done is fight and then run if need be, but the villagers would not. Idimus had made them so hopeless, so stifled, that they no longer defended themselves or their homes. He had crushed their spirits so completely that they wouldn’t even run to save their own lives. Perhaps they found no meaning in them. He watched each and every one, huddled and crying; but they did nothing except watch as the monster ripped their homes apart. They simply dealt with it—as they had for three hundred years—and waited for it to be over. Idimus had spent nearly his entire rule molding them that way, breaking them, so they would not fight him; all to save him from worry.

  “What a weak tactic…” Gerin thought to himself, this demonstration made Idimus lose even more honor in the General’s eyes.

  He could have killed it, or captured it for the King. It was obvious by the cut chains dangling behind the freakish thing that someone had let it out. The way the holding cell was set up; it was either all of them or none. He had no doubt now that it was Estophicles. If Gerin was as loyal as he had been only weeks ago, he would have detained it again—even risked his life—but that strange feeling of contempt settled in once more, It was now not worth taking the chance.

  Had it not been the Taghs, his decision most likely would have changed. If it were Drogan gone mad or anything else, he would have stepped in. The General was a lot of things, but he was not a savage. Leaving people to be slaughtered was against even his morals. He had done his fair share of killing, but that was on the battlefield. This was different. As dark as his heart was, there was still honor within, and he would not stand by while a creature killed an entire village if he had the chance to stop it. But Gerin knew the Taghs well; he had originally led them when Idimus first used their skills. They were slow, stupid, and dull. They sought only mass destruction, and were drawn to the bigger buildings and the larger homes. He had never seen one, in the six months, intentionally attack a human—unless it went after them first. From the looks of the villagers, no one among them was going to do that.

  Without a shimmer in his conscience, Gerin walked from the wall and back to his horse. He would let it destroy their village. Perhaps it would inspire them to stand up for once, and realize that their lives had value. An odd sense of peace, for the first time, washed over Gerin. Not a thread of guilt for leaving it there. He was a soldier. He was trained to fight wars, not capture fugitives. That job would be left to grunts, or Idimus’ new Captain of the Guard: Drogan.

  Perhaps it was petty, or even childish but in it as well, he found redemption and freedom, the feeling now more dominant than ever.

  As he made his way back to the road, to continue his journey north, a strong figure stepped from the shadows. First a hand, outstretched holding a glowing green gem, the same one that had told him to draw close to Gerin, the same that had told him to find the General in the first place. Estophicles stepped completely into the night, smiling insidiously beneath his mask.